


Eves

by wisdomeagle



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Car Sex, F/F, Gags, Nipple Clamps, One Night Stands, PWP, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-19
Updated: 2005-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/pseuds/wisdomeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always get what they come for and take what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilith_morgana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilith_morgana/gifts).



> Written for the [Femslash PWP-a-thon](http://www.livejournal.com/users/viciouswishes/405560.html) to a request for this pairing, S3, and bondage. The bondage was sort of replaced by other kinky objects.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The voice is feminine, _not_ her thing. She spins around to say so, and does a double, no, triple take. Too cool to be surprised, she has to settle for, "Well, Lilah Morgan, what brings evil to this side of town?"

"The view," Lilah says, taking a totally unasked for leer at Cordelia's cleavage. "And as always, I got what I came for. I didn't know they _made_ dresses that small."

Which means Cordelia has to look at _Lilah's_ dress, painted on and cut low. She has the price tag memorized and it's as hot as Lilah's legs, generously displayed beneath her dress's swaying skirt.

"Like what you see?"

"I _like_ things that are noble and true, people who fight evil, not people who cause it."

"Designer perfume and pretty clothes?" Lilah finishes for her. "There, there. We all have our weaknesses."

"And yours is apparently picking up underage girls in hang-outs of questionable taste and taunting them with your oversized cleavage?"

"Oh, come on, Miss Chase. We both know that's not true. What would a girl like you be doing at any but the classiest of bars?"

"Trying to get myself drunk weeks -- six of them -- before my twenty-first birthday?"

Lilah smiles. "At least you're eighteen. I wouldn't want to do anything illegal, you know."

"Wow, presume much? I guess _you_ never got turned down in high school?"

"And you did? I find that difficult to fathom."

"No one says no to me." Cordelia doesn't even bother cataloguing the mishaps she's covering up or lying about; there's no way in hell Lilah is finding out anything that doesn't make her look good.

Like she's a mindreader, Lilah says, "In any event, you make this place look good. Very classy. Your breasts add a certain sparkle to the place."

"Which your thighs don't detract from."

Lilah cocks her head. "I have a limo waiting outside. We could be at my apartment in five minutes."

"And I could have Angel here in two." She gestures at the cell phone she's got tucked into her bra, but Lilah misinterprets the gesture and laughs.

"I didn't think you kept him _there_."

Lilah's voice has deepened, and the sleek silk of it is arousing. Lilah is trying to seduce her. She recognizes the tone, the timbre, the way Lilah steels herself for rejection, her backbone just slightly too erect to be really comfortable. With a flick her hair, she's Queen Cordy again, and she can give Lilah her no thank you or yes please and make her bleed or make her _come_.

"Fine," she says. "Pay my tab, won't you? I've got to freshen up."

"You're rather fresh already," Lilah says, but she's smiling, and her smile is prettier for the lack of feeling, glittering and dangerous. "Wear this, won't you?" She hands Cordy a box, too large for jewelry and too small for clothes. When she ducks into the ladies' room, she finds the box holds a pair of vile, ugly metal clips -- "nipple clamps," Lilah whispers. "The best money can buy."

Cordy rolls her eyes. "God, you really did come here expecting to get laid, didn't you? Where I come from, we call that kind of behavior slutty."

"And what do you call _this_?" Lilah asks, pushing a hand up Cordelia's skirt, ripping a few stitches out of the tight black fabric.

"Class."

Lilah grins wildly and pushes her hand further up, rubbing the nylon of Cordelia's pantyhose against her skin. Cordy can't help squirming a little, and she doesn't like that can't help.

"Are we actually going to make out in the restroom?"

"It _would_ be crass, wouldn't it? All right. Get the clamps on and meet me at the limousine as soon as you can."

The backseat of Lilah's limo is infinitely more gorgeous than the restroom, smooth and leather and black, worth a fortune and a half. In her red dress, splayed deliciously but not invitingly over her perfectly toned legs and perfectly manicured breasts, Lilah looks like she should never do anything but what she's doing now. When Lilah dips a hand between her own legs, somehow managing not to disrupt the flow of her skirt or the careful tableau of red dress on black leather, Cordelia forgets about the pain in her breasts and topples in her heels, landing next to Lilah, her hand on a smooth black nylon stocking.

"I think we'd both prefer this if we didn't talk," Lilah says, and before Cordelia can protest, a soft scarf (from last year's Parisian line) has been slipped around her mouth, and Lilah's long fingers are slipping up her dress again, but this time, Lilah isn't stopping, and her hands are on Cordelia's stomach, her chest, then slip up to yank the chain that dangles between her breasts. Cordy's yelp is muffled by the silk, and Lilah laughs into her ear, making her tingle somewhere far below.

"Why don't you try your hand at this?" Lilah hisses, directing Cordelia's hands up to the hem of her pantyhose. Then Lilah's hands are gone, wrapped around Cordy's back, and Cordy takes a breath and slides her hands down, rubbing over Lilah's smooth-shaved mound and down to the tiny soft nub that makes Lilah twitch when she rubs it.

Cordy's never been much for getting herself off, preferring to leave that to her boyfriends, but she knows at least the rudimentary points of female anatomy (which, honestly, is more than can be said for some of the boyfriends), and she knows how to listen to Lilah's heavy breathing and the hitch of her throat. She knows how to rub her body against Lilah's, and she's starting to learn how to get Lilah to jerk the chain of the nipple clamps, which makes her want to scream and need to be touched, and which makes Lilah moan a little deeper at the sound of Cordy's breath.

Getting Lilah off (fingers slipping in and out of her, one hand always pressed over her clit, sometimes rubbing just a little bit harder, and her mouth scrambling for purchase on buttons and breasts and lips, moaning and twitching and rubbing her own wetness against Lilah's right leg) is push-and-pull, give-and-take, as much in the psychology of getting herself off and making Lilah believe that she wants it, as it is in the anatomy of it.

When Lilah comes she goes very still, but Cordelia can feel that her breath is short. Her fingers tiptoe up and away from Lilah's snatch, and Lilah, slowly coming back to herself, releases the nipple clamps. Cordelia winces and wants to scream, and when Lilah carefully snips her gag with the scissors she's carefully concealed somewhere in the limo, she does, a short, breathy yelp that's cut short by Lilah's long fingernails scraping over her sex, scratching bitterly at her skin and making her wince in pain and want. One finger inside her, one rubbing back and forth across her clit, and Cordelia is coming, wetness and spasms around Lilah's hands. Their dresses are mussed and disarrayed, they are both panting desperately, and their hair is, as always, perfect, because they are both, ultimately, in control of their surroundings.

"Well, that wasn't unpleasant, Miss Chase."

"Don't expect it to be a regular thing, Lilah Morgan."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I didn't expect more than a one-night stand from you."

"I'm keeping the clamps."

"I'll send the bill to Angel Investigations."

"Angel will kill you if he finds out what you did to me."

"And if he finds out what you did to me?"

"He never will." Cordelia wrinkles her nose and grins, because she knows she's won. Cordelia always wins.


End file.
